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oulder and shoved me
into the wall. There was a loud crack that probably would have
sounded like a soft phuit to a human, then the clack of wood
bouncing off brick. It took me a second to realize that Decker
had shot his damn spike gun at us, but had fortunately missed.
Beau--it was Beau that had me, I could tell by his scent
--jerked me, stumbling, back in the direction we came. "Let's
get the hell out of here before he reloads!"
As he was dragging me around the corner, I heard a sharp
sputtering roar as a motorcycle started up back in the alley. A
moment later, the bike screamed by. Decker, apparently, was
making good his getaway before our eyes recovered.
"What the hell was that?" I cried, rubbing at my eyelids and
trying to blink away the purple explosions that blocked my
vision.
"Some kind of camera flash. Didn't you see the
tripod? He must have rigged it for an extended burst
somehow...Goddamn it, why couldn't he have stuck with the garlic
and crosses?"
"Apparently he wised up," I s
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